There are various archetypal concepts that were virtual obsessions during the pre-Code fantasy and horror years, and comic collectors who treasure that era still embrace these imaginative icons and enshrine them in little sub-genres. This is especially true when the book features the concept on its cover, and one notices that issues offering atomic-bomb-blast or decapitation covers (to cite two prominent examples) command a higher value in the marketplace. In this light we shall examine three books that must henceforth be filed under the sub-genre heading of "Giant Spiders". While the best giant spider cover is a debatable topic, for inside-and-out total concept packaging, Fox's Feature Presentation #5 (April 1950), The Black Tarantula, heads the list. This 29-page story is the first original four-color horror novel. It takes the conventional Victorian gothic atmosphere of old world vampire legends, and fuses it with those most important ingredients of four-color fifties fantasy, a breakneck pace and a lurid palette.

     Count Rorret terrorizes a village with his ability to transform into a vampire tarantula and suck the life from hapless victims who become his undead followers. But one villager is possessed of a bit of old world lore that might unlock the creature's weakness. The story barrels along, full of intriguing incidents, like when the vampire manifests himself as a nightmarish "shape", large enough to cram unfortunate folks into it mouth, and cuts a swath of death through the village in a scene that culminates in a wonderful full page panel.

     It looks like Fox was impressed with Fast Fiction's success at packaging classic novels (since he borrowed their "hardback" cover look of tilted image and simulated spine) but didn't want to go through the hassle of licensing anything, so he had his staff start from scratch, and they produced this uniquely entertaining extravaganza. This book got some good press recently in its incarnation as a Star reprint, with an L.B. Cole "giant spider" cover but deserves further mention in its original appearance with its historical significance underscored. And the Fox cover is a nice simple statement of what the story is about.

     The second entry, from the fantasy powerhouse of Atlas, Adventures into Terror #15 (January 1953), has a cover that's vastly superior to the accompanying tale inside. Joe Maneely vividly defines the quintessential horror of the giant spider concept, with the human caught fly-like in its web as the fanged fiend approaches. "Trapped by the Tarantula" is one of those "miser living alone in mansion luring criminals who imagine an easy kill and a waiting fortune but find out too late they've been baited into a monster's den" chestnuts, still somewhat amusing despite utter predictability.

     This issue also contains a Stan Lee anti-Commie yarn, and a creepy crime caper of a lion-tamer who's an abusive husband and his pushed-over-the-brink wife who plots his demise. Then there's a fable of supernatural vengeance with murderous assist from the hungry inhabitants of an alligator farm. But not much can be said for the formula filler of "The Woman Who Wasn't", where a greedy fool tries to steal ancient treasure guarded by the Gorgon. All in all, with tarantulas, wild circus animals, rampaging 'gators, and the Gorgon's snakes - Terror #15 is a real compendium of dangerous critters.

     The final giant spider entry is my own candidate for the greatest cover in the overgrown arachnid file, from a title perfectly linked to this cult-classic sub-genre. Web Of Mystery #8 (April 1952) features a cover that goes way over the top, adding an element of sexual menace to the usual horror trappings. "The Haunts of Devil's Lake" inside, while it's an OK yarn, can't match the raw power of that ultimate cover. And rather than being a giant spider story, it's a tale of zombies in an underwater cavern, but Mario Rizzi gets in some superbly-staged panels.

     The second story features unusual art by Ace's star artist, Lou Cameron. While Cameron most often inked his own work, which resulted in one of the more gloriously decadent styles of the period, here his style is muted by Rocco Mastroserio's inks. Still, the art is handsome, but "Fury of the Macabre Mannequins" doesn't tie together as a strong story.

     "Genie of the Jewel" is readable, with quirky and intelligent art by Louis Zansky (who drew many of the early Classics Illustrated issues), but again, less than compulsive. And "Wraith of the Battle Vest" is a tired tale that did not rouse Mike Sekowsky to outdo himself on the art either.

     Still, Cameron is cause enough to collect Ace. He's more than just a stylist; he works hard to include a lot of imaginative imagery that enhances the overall narrative. And sometimes Ace's other creators rose to the occasion—providing that satisfying combination of good writing and good art.

     (Later in 1952 Ace started their famous series of "Double-Novel" paperbacks, two "flip over" crime, science fiction, or western books (giving you, in essence, two "front" covers as well) for 35 cents. The SF books are particularly well-remembered, bought and read by many of the same kids who were reading the SF-driven comics of the early Silver Age.)

     There are many other great "spider" stories and covers from comics of the pre-Code days. ACG's flagship title, Adventures into the Unknown, deserves an honorable mention for having two giant spider covers: one on #33—another "woman in the web" with a skull-headed spider, and #50's lead-story cover for "Vampire Spider". And the "glimpsed in Gerber" award goes to Witches Tales #12—with a cover done for Harvey in a vein similar to that sizzler for Web of Mystery #8. After the Code, Hollywood got into the act; 1955's "Tarantula" was one of the best monster movies, and 1957's "Incredible Shrinking Man" (both films were directed by Jack Arnold) featured an inverse take on the giant spider—as the shrinking man battled a normal-sized spider that seemed huge compared to him.

Pat Calhoun has been collecting, researching and appreciating comic books since the early 1960s, and is a nationally recognized comic book historian. Pat resides in Santa Rosa, California.